
()opyiiglit)^?_ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




CAPT. R. A. RAG AN IN 1863. 



■ROM 



EQop"cr 



TO 



THE FEDERAL LINES. 



The History, given as nearly as possible, by Captain R. A. Ragan 

OF his individual experiences during the War of the 

Rebellion from 1861 to 1864. 



ILLUSTRATED. 



WASHINGTON, D. C. 

JAMES H. DONY, PUBLISHER. 
1910. 






Copyright 1910. by 
R. A. RAGAN. 



©CIA271119 



INTRODUCTION. 

I LAY no claim to literary attainments, but undertake to tell 
in simple words the story of my experiences, hardships and 
sufferings, lying out in the cold weather many nights, trying to 
make my way across the mountains and rivers to Kentucky, 
where the Union Army was encamped. 

There have been a number of books written since the Civil 
War, deaUng with the loyalty, heroism and suffering of the Union 
people of East Tennessee during that period, but few men have 
given their individual experience from 1861 to 1864. 

I am, so far as I can ascertain, the only East Tennessee pilot 
living. I give the following names of those who piloted Union 
men through the lines : Daniel Ellis, James Lane, A. C. Fondren, 
James Kinser and David Fry. These men have all died since 
the War, except James Lane, who was killed at the foot of the 
Cumberland Mountain, in Powell's Valley, while conveying men 
to Kentucky. R. A. R. 



;SCaPE FROi EAST TENNESSEE 



CHAPTER I. 



WAS bom in Greene County, Tennessee, near the banks of 
the Nola Chucky River. My father moved in 1845 to the 
banks of the French Broad River, in Cocke County, Tennessee, 
shortly after I was born. I was the oldest of the six children, 
namely, niyseh^, Alexander, Laura, Creed, Mary and James Ragan. 
My father was a county officer for years — in fact, until the late 
war. I grew up in the county, and attended muster. 

In 1860 I was elected Lieutenant-Colonel of the Militia, and 
in the Fail of 1861 was in the employ of Frank Clark, who fat- 
tened hogs and every year drove them to South Carolina mar- 
kets. At that tim.e there were no railroads in East Tennessee 
leading to South Carolina. When we left East Tennessee there 
was no talk of war, but when we reached South Carolina, the 
people were excited and in a state of rebellion. Before reach- 
ing Spartanburg, Mr. Clark told me to be careful how I talked. 
He seemed to know the situation. 

After v/e arrived at Spartanburg I was sick with jaundice 
for a few days, and confined to my bed. While in bed I could 
hear the rebels hallooing and riding through the streets, and the 
rattling of sabers. 

In a few days I got out of my bed and went out into the 
streets. I was young, and hardly knew what it meant, for ev- 
erything was calm when I left East Tennessee ; but when I looked 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 5 

up and saw the rebel flag, I felt a thrill of patriotism run through 
my veins, and then began to realize the fact that it was not the 
flag I had been used to all my life. At that moment I was a 
Union boy, and felt that I was in the wrong latitude. 

If I had uttered a word against the South at that time I 
would have been hung to the first limb. The Negroes v/ere ex- 
cited and scared nearly to death. Some one would set a house 
on fire and accuse a Negro of the crime, and arrest the first one 
he came across, taking him out and hanging him. I saw two 
hung in this manner. 

The next morning I said quietly to Mr. Clark, " I believe I 
will go back to East Tennessee." 

"All right," he said. 

I had, I think, the best saddle horse in the State ; he v/as a 
fox trotter, only three years old, and his gait v/as smooth and 
easy. I bid Mr. Clark good-day, and started on my journey. 

The farther I got from Spartanburg, the better I felt. I be- 
lieve I rode sixty-two miles from early in the morning until dark. 
It seemed to me that the horse w^as a Union animal, for he 
" pulled for the shore." I never put a spur or whip to his fiesh. 
I was young, and will confess I was afraid the rebels were after 
me. 

When I reached the top of the Blue Ridge, I looked back 
and it seemed to me that I could see the smoke of war. I then 
turned my face toward East Tennessee, and imagined I could 
see peace and harmony. I looked to my right and could see the 
Holston and Watagua Rivers running down through the valleys 
of East Tennessee, and the people going about their daily avo- 



6 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

cations ; and next was the Nola Chucky, where I was born, with 
her beautiful bottom lands extending for miles. Next came the 
French Broad, on the banks of which I was raised. Next was 
the Big Pigeon, which was made from the little streams gushing 
from the Great Smoky Mountain and the North Carolina Moun- 
tains. I imagined I could see all these rivers making their way 
in peace to the Tennessee River, which emptied into the Ohio 
above its junction with the great Mississippi. I did not think 
at that time that there were preparations being made by the 
North and the South for the greatest war that was ever fought 
in the world. 

After I had rested on the top of this mountain, I continued 
my journey down through a part of North Carolina to Paint 
Rock, and then into East Tennessee. When I arrived at New- 
port, Cocke County, I found the people making preparations to 
sow wheat. I remember on my way from South Carolina I came 
to a farm on the banks of the French Broad. The men were 
plowing, some with mules, some with horses and others with 
yokes of oxen, turning over the land. They knew me, and asked 
how I had come out with my hogs, and how the times were over 
in South Carolina. 

I said, " H — is to pay over there ; they are fixing for war." 

They asked me who they were going to fight. 

" The Yankees," I said. 

I told them that Fort Sumter had been fired upon. They 
asked me where Fort Sumter was. You see that the people in 
that locality had never heard of war, but in a short time they 
began talking about secession. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 



CHAPTER 11. 

IN February, 1861, the State of Tennessee voted against 
secession by the overwhelming majority of 68,000 ; but a 
military league, offensive and defensive, was entered into on the 
seventh day of May, 1861, between commissioners appointed 
by Governor Harris, on the part of the State of Tennessee, and 
commissioners appointed by the Confederate government, and 
ratified by the General Assembly of the State, whereby the State 
became a part of the Confederate States to all intents and pur- 
poses, although an act was passed on the 8th of June for the 
people to decide the question of separation and representation 
or no representation in the Confederate Congress. 

In the meantime troops had been organized and prepara- 
tions made for war. The election was a farce, as the State had 
already been taken out of the Union and had formed an alliance 
with the other States of the Confederacy. 

The leaders of the Union element, comprising the best talent 
of East Tennessee, had not been idle. The most prominent 
Union leaders at that time were Andrew Johnson, Thomas A. 
R. Nelson, W. B. Carter, C. F. Trigg, N. G. Taylor, Oliver P. Tem- 
ple, R. R. Butler, William G. Brownlow, John Baxter and Andrew 
J. Fletcher. These men, with all their eloquence and abiUty, 
failed to accomplish the task of holding Tennessee in the Union. 



8 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

The State commenced organizing troops, and as Lieutenant- 
Colonel of the Militia I was urged by the leading rebels of my 
county to make up a regiment for the rebel army. I refused to 
do so, and from that time on I was considered a Union man. 

I was appointed by the School Board to teach school. When 
the Legislature met a law was passed exempting certain persons, 
such as school teachers, blacksmiths and millers, from the Con- 
federate service. Of course I came under the law and was ex- 
empt, and wanted to keep out of the rebel army. I had just 
married and did not want to go North and leave my family 
until I was compelled to go. At that time very few men had 
left the State for the North. 

In a short time the exemption law was repealed, and every 
man from eighteen to forty-five years of age had to join the rebel 
army or be conscripted. I was teaching school, but did not know 
of the repeal of the law ; so in a day or two the rebel soldiers 
came to the school house and arrested me, and took me by way 
of my home, which was about two miles from the school house, 
in order that I might see my wife, as I requested. 

When we reached my home my wife came to the door, and 
did not display any excitement. She was a brave Union woman, 
and knew that they had a hard customer, and that I would never 
fight for the Southern Confederacy. I wanted to have a private 
conversation with my wife, but they refused. I did not know 
when I would return, if I ever did, for they were killing men by 
hanging or shooting them every day, and taking others to Tus- 
caloosa. I just told my wife to go to her father and remain with 
him until I returned. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. \) 

I will here relate a little incident that occurred while under 
arrest that evening, showing the way the rebels treated Union 
men. My brother-in-law was a rebel, but a nice man person- 
ally. He lived on a farm of about one hundred acres, adjoining 
the farm I lived on, and I can safely say that there was a cross- 
fence every two hundred yards through his farm, and no bars 
or gates to go through. I was on foot, and the rebel soldiers put 
me in front to lay down all these fences for them to pass through, 
and made me put them up afterward. Of course I obeyed or- 
ders, for every man was armed and wanted me to do something 
that they might have an excuse to shoot me. 

When we passed out of the field into the woodland we had 
to go through a deep hollow. When we reached the place it was 
dark, although in the daytime. About the time we reached the 
middle of the hollow one of the soldiers, in a low voice, said to 
another, " Dave, this is a good place ! " I Hstened, expecting to 
hear the command, " Halt ! " but no reply was made to the re- 
mark. No one can imagine how I felt. I had just left my wife 
standing in the door of our Uttle log cabin, watching the soldiers 
driving me through the field, taking down and putting up all the 
fences, as heretofore stated ; I thought of my mother and my 
sisters, whom I should probably never see again. This was all in 
about a minute of time, but it was a terrible minute for me. 
However, the soldiers continued to drive me along until we came 
in the evening to the home of Henry Kilgore, the conscript offi- 
cer, which was about two miles from our home. He took my 
name, and registered it on the conscript rolls. I was then con- 
sidered a rebel soldier. 



10 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

It was dark when we arrived at his house, and we had to 
remain until morning. There was a bed in the corner of the 
cabin, and I beheve some beds on the second floor. The kitchen 
was about ten yards from the log cabin. They gave me my 
supper, but I had little appetite. I had known the conscript 
officer all my life, but he did not recognize me, and I will speak 
of him further on. 

About eight o'clock I found they were going to have a 
*' hoe-down" that night, and the men and women of the neigh- 
borhood were invited to come. They began to arrive about nine 
o'clock. I pretended to be sleepy, and an officer who was guard- 
ing me ordered me to get into the bed in the corner of the cabin. 
Of course I was under orders, and I crawled in — but no sleep 
for me. 

They had a man with a violin, and commenced dancing, 
four at a time, face to face — a general hoe-down. They kept 
their drinks in the kitchen, which they visited often. They be- 
gan to get tired and commenced singing 

" I want some more of your weevilly wheat, 
I want some more of your barley." 

They danced and enjoyed themselves by running around in 
the house after each other, and the women would jump on my 
bed and trample over me. I thought at times I would be tram- 
pled to death, but I was pretty hard to hurt at that time and I 
was mad to the core. 



TO THE FEDERAL UNES. 11 



CHAPTER III. 

"XTEXT day the soldiers got together and detailed three men 
-^^ to take me to Knoxville, Tenn. When we arrived there, 
about two o'clock in the morning, they took me out — I cannot 
tell where — and put me in the stockade with about three hun- 
dred poor ragged men who had declared themselves for the 
Union. When I went in, they raised a howl, 
" There is another Lincolnite ! " 

I never saw such a sight in all my life. These men were 
half naked and bare-footed, and some without hats. They had 
lost their apparel in the woods, trying to make their escape. I 
do not think they had washed their faces or hands since being 
captured. 

In the morning a wagon drove up to the stockade, on the 
outside, and the driver commenced throwing old, poor beef over 
the stockade on the ground. I shall never forget seeing one of 
the men pick up a piece of beef and throw it against the wall 
to see if it would stick, but it was too poor. I never expected 
to eat or bite of it, and I never did. 

My father, who was a cousin of John H. Reagan, Postmaster 
General of the Southern Confederacy, was on hand at Knoxville 
about the time I arrived. He telegraphed to Richmond that his 
son was under arrest, that he had committed no crime, and that 
he was a school teacher. The Richmond authorities telegraphed 



12 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

back to Leadbeater, the commanding officer, directing him to 
release me. The next morning I passed out of the stockade and 
went back to my home, and commenced teaching school again. 

In a few days word was sent to me that I was to be again 
arrested. I then disappeared, and for about eighteen months 
my whereabouts were only known by my family and the fami- 
lies of my wife, father, and an old uncle. All this time I was 
trying to get across to the Federal lines, but something happened 
to prevent my getting away. They were scouring the country 
for conscripts, and already had my name on the rolls, as I have 
heretofore stated. 

Sometime about the first of 1862 I heard that a pilot was 
to be in Greene County, Tenn., to take Union men to the Federal 
lines. One Joseph Smith, who lived near my town, Parrotts- 
ville, went with me to Greene County, about twelve miles from 
our home, to the banks of the Nola Chucky River, and we re- 
mained there for a few days, lying in a straw stack and fed by 
an old Union lady, by the name of Minerva Hale. 

News came that a " pilot" would be on hand about one mile 
from where we were. I do not know why, but something told 
me not to go. Joseph Smith left me, bidding me good-bye, and 
I never saw him again. 

I started back home, twelve miles through the woods, and 
had to cross the Nola Chucky in the dark, and the rebels travel- 
ling all through the country, knowing that men were trying to 
cross to Kentucky. I reached home before daylight and let my 
wife know I had returned, then went out in the woods as usual 
and put up. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 13 

The next day news came to the neighborhood that the men 
Joseph Smith met were captured the night he left me, only three 
men making their escape — the pilot (WiUiam Worthington) and 
two others. They saved themselves by jumping into Lick Creek, 
a small but deep stream, and sinking themselves in the water, 
only allowing their faces above the water enough to breathe. 

The rest of the men were taken to Vicksburg and put in the 
rebel army. Joseph Smith was shot in the foot while at Vicks- 
burg, and gangrene set in, causing his death. The other men 
were never subsequently heard of. 

I never slept in a house but three or four times during the 
time I was scouting. I travelled between what is called Neddys 
Mountain and Newport, Tenn., which is about twelve miles. I 
never travelled in a road, and always in the night. 

I had an old uncle who lived in Newport, between the French 
Broad River and the Pigeon River, which were about four miles 
apart. I wanted to see him, and started out one night. It was 
dark and raining, but I always felt safer the harder it rained and 
the darker the night. I came to the French Broad, a good sized 
river. Of course I knew that I could not cross at the ferry, for I 
had heard that it was guarded by rebel soldiers. I had been 
raised in that section from a boy and was famiUar with the river 
and the surrounding country. About two hundred yards below 
the ferry I crossed the river, wading part of the way and swim- 
ing the balance, with my clothes in a bundle on my head. 

When I got over I went in the bushes and dressed. I had 
to be very careful, for the town was full of rebel scouts, but no 
regular regiment was stationed there. 



14 



ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 



I v/ent on t he north side of the town, and down a Uttle alley 
to the back of my uncle's house, and knocked at the kitchen 
door. Directly my cousin, Sarah Ragan, came to the door, and 
v/as dumbfounded to see me. She said, " Why, Cousin Bob, the 
town is full of rebel soldiers, and two are now in the parlor ! " 

She took me upstairs, and I remained there two days and 
nights. I could look out in the street and see the rebel soldiers 
going up and down. Of course they thought I was in the North- 
ern Army, and nearly all the Union people thought the same. 

I left the third night and went to my father's, on the m.ain 
road leading from Newport to Greeneville, Tenn., about three 
miles from Newport. This was a dangerous place for me to stop, 
but I wanted to see my mother and sister, and I always found 
such places about as safe for me as any, as the rebels never 
thought of me or any other Union man being in such places. 

I remained there for a few days. The second day, about 
two o'clock, word came that a regiment of rebel soldiers were 
crossing the French Broad at Newport, the place I had left a few 
nights before. I was at a loss to know what to do. 

A rebel family lived just a few hundred yards away, on the 
main road, and there was not a tree or bush to hide me. I knew 
the soldiers would stop at the house and probably search the 
building for Union men. I had but a few minutes to decide. 

My mother was on hand and always ready to offer suggest- 
ions in tim.e of danger. She said, " Bob, put on Laura's dress 
and sun-bonnet, and cross the road." 

My sister was well grown for her age, and in a few minutes 
I had the dress and bonnet on. The dress reached just below 




on 



TO THE FEDERAL LIT-TE?, 15 

my knees, but I crossed the road and passed the barn into an 
old field about three hundred yards away. I fell into a wash- 
out, and stuck my head out and saw the rebel regiment pass. 
Some of them stopped at the house. 

This was the first rebel regiment I had seen, and of course 
it was a sight to me, and I felt more anxious to get to the Fed- 
eral army. This regiment of rebel soldiers was on its way to 
Johnson, Carter and Cocke Counties, to look out for Union men 
making their way to Kentucky or to the Federal army. 

I went back to the house after dark, and left that night 
for Neddys Mountain, in the neighborhood of my home, and 
remained there some time, visiting my home at nights, but 
never sleeping in the house. 

I will here relate a Uttle incident that occurred while on a 
visit to my father's home, at the same place where I made my 
escape with the dress on. I was in the sitting room, talking to 
my mother, when some one knocked at the door, Of course 
we did not know who it was, so I got under an old-fashioned 
bed, with curtains to the floor. Our visitor was a lady who 
lived just below on the road, who was a strong rebel sympa- 
thizer, and had two brothers in the rebel army. She had come 
to spend the evening, and brought her knitting, as was the 
usual custom in that neighborhood. As she was busy talking 
to my mother, her ball of yarn rolled out of her lap and under 
the bed. As quick as lightning, mother ran and got the ball, 
by my kicking it back. In a few minutes she invited her vis- 
itor into another room. 



16 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

At another time the same lady came while I was there, 
and she had a big bull dog with her. I heard that she was on 
the porch, and I went under the bed again. The dog came into 
the room and scented me. He stuck his head under the cur- 
tains, and I kicked him on the nose, and he went out yelping. 
The woman did not understand what it meant, but said noth- 
ing. I left that night, and never visited my father again during 
the war. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 



17 



CHAPTER IV. 

I REMAINED around home and in the mountains, waiting 
for news to come for us to start for Kentucky. In a few 
tidings came that a " pilot" would start for the North about the 
first of May. Notice was given and preparations were made 
to meet on the north side of the Nola Chucky, in Greene Co., 
Tenn. I was to meet some men at a school house, about one 
mile from home. It was a dangerous time, as the rebels were 
scouting all over the country for Union men. That day, about 
three miles away, two Union men, Chris. Ottinger and John 
Eisenhour, were killed by the rebels. 

On the 6th of May, 1863, 1 was at my father-in-law's house, 
preparing to meet the party at the school house heretofore men- 
tioned. About sun-down, my father-in-law went to the door 
on the north side of the house and, turning around, said, 
" The rebels are coming up the lane to the house ! " 
He went out toward the barn, calling the horses, trying to 
draw the attention of the rebels, and knowing that I would try 
to get away. I was bare-footed, bare-headed, and without a 
coat. I ran out of the house on the south side, and kept the 
house between myself and the rebels. I jumped over a high 
fence and passed the loom house, then jumped another high 
fence and Ut on a lime-stone rock, cutting the ball of my left 
foot to the bone, but did not know it until I ran up close to the 



18 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

barn and sat down in a briar thicket in a corner of the fence. 
I felt something sting, and putting my hand down, found the 
blood gushing from my foot. The reader can imagine how I 
felt. I was mad and ready to fight the entire Confederacy, but 
sat quietly, nursing my wrath and my wounded foot. 

By this time it was quite dark, and the rebels had fed their 
horses and were going to the house for their supper which they 
had ordered. I got up and studied for a moment to know what 
to do, and finally decided to go back to the house the way I had 
ran out. I started back, and crawled along the side of a hedge 
fence on the south side of the house until I came to a gate that 
opened from the kitchen. There was a bright light shining 
through the window, and I could see all of the rebels seated at 
the table, there being about twenty of them. 

Outside it was very dark by this time. I crawled along on 
all fours to the " big house" door and went in. The rebels had 
stacked their arms in the sitting room, and all of their accou- 
trements were lying on the floor. As there was no light in this 
room, it was very dark. A stairway led from this room to the 
second floor, and I knocked lightly on the stair railing. My 
sister-in-law came in and was shocked to find me in the house. 
I told her I had ruined my foot on a rock, and that I would go 
round on the north side of the house to the kitchen door, and 
that she should tell my wife to come out, as I wanted to speak 
to her ; but my sister-in-law could find no chance to do so, for 
the rebels were watching the family. 



TO THE FEDERAL UNES. 



19 



I stood at the door a minute, and tapped lightly, just so 
my wife would hear it, for I could see through the window that 
she was standing at the door. She opened it just a little, and 
I whispered to her and said I would go out into the garden and 
remain there until the rebels left. 

While in the room I was tempted to take up their guns and 
go to the v/indow and shoot three or four of them, but I knew 
if I did they would kill the family and burn the house. 

I remained in the garden until they left, but suffered fear- 
fully with my wounded foot. I knew I had to meet the men 
at the school house. After the rebels departed, I went in and 
cut off the top of my shoe and washed the blood from my foot 
and bound it up the best I could. The family filled my haver- 
sack with provisions and I started for the school house, where 
I met the boys and related my troubles to them. 

Men from all parts were making their way to the place on 
the north side of the Nola Chucky, some seven miles from home. 
We had to cross a cedar bluff on the north side of the river, and 
the night was dark and the country very rough. 

As a man by the name of Alfred Timons was crossing the 
road alone, making his way to the place, he was fired upon by 
the rebels and shot through the head, the ball coming out 
through his right eye. He fell to the ground, but regained his 
strength and made his escape to the river, which he crossed and 
came to the camp. The boys dressed his wound the best they 
could, and he went to Kentucky, but lost the sight of his eye. 

I suffered all night with my foot, and could hardly put it 
to the ground. There were about one hundred and twenty men 



20 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

gathered there from all parts of the country, to go to Kentucky. 
We remained there that night and until about eight o'clock the 
next evening, when they started for that State. 

I had to abondon the attempt to go this time, and was left 
alone on the bluff in a terrible condition — no one to help me 
back home, and if I should succeed in reaching home I could 
not stay in the house. I knew if I was captured I would be shot 
or hung to the first limb. The rebels had received word that 
we had crossed the river and were making our way to Kentucky. 

I started for home that night, crossing the river in a canoe 
at the same place where I had crossed the night before. I trav- 
elled about three miles that night, and just before daylight I 
crawled into a barn, dug a hole in the hay, and remained there 
all day, suffering intensely with my foot. Some one came into 
the barn to feed the horses, but I knew who hved there, and 
did not dare to make my presence known. When the person 
came in the hay loft I was afraid whoever it was might stick 
the pitch fork in me. I could not tell whether it was a man or 
woman, for no word was spoken. I lay there all day, without 
anything to eat or drink, and suffering fearfully with my foot 

About eight o'clock that night I crawled out of the barn 
and started for home. I travelled about three miles, and be- 
fore daylight I crawled into another barn. I had known the 
owner all my life. He was a German and a good Union man, 
but I could not let myself be known. No one came to the barn 
that morning, and I lay there all day. My foot had swollen so 
badly that my shoe had to be taken off, and I had to go bare- 
footed. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 21 

The third night I crawled into the barn of Philip Easterly, 
who was my wife's uncle. I did not let myself be known, but 
lay there all day as usual, and at night crawled out, having 
one mile and a half to travel to reach home. 

I can safely say that I had to hop on one foot most of the 
way. I had no crutches and nothing but a stick that I had cut 
with a knife. When I arrived at my home, about three o'clock 
in the morning, my folks were surprised to see me, for they 
thought I could never walk on my foot in the condition it was 
in. I had my foot dressed for the first time since I was hurt. 
The blood had caked on it, and it looked as if amputation might 
be necessary ; but my wife came to me two or three times a 
day and dressed it. I stayed in the barn at nights, and in the 
woods in the daytime. I had to remain in this condition for 
about six weeks, until I got so that I could begin to walk. 



22 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 



CHAPTER V. 

XN July, 1863, the news came that George Kirk would meet 
J- some men in Greene County to take them to Kentucky. I 
was determined to go, if I had to crawl part of the way. We 
met in Greene County, with about a hundred men. We crossed 
Waldron Ridge and the Watauga, Cumberland, Holston and 
Powell's Rivers, encountering great hardships. Our provisions 
gave out, and the only way we could get anything to eat was 
to find a colored family. They were always loyal, and we could 
depend on them. They never would " give us away." 

When we reached Camp Dick Robinson, Kentucky, we found 
a great many East Tennessee men who had made their way 
through the mountains. Some had organized into companies. 

Col. Felix A. Reeve, who is now Assistant SoUcitor of the 
Treasury Department, was organizing the Eighth Tennessee 
Regiment of Infantry. I reported to him that there were a 
great many Union men in North Carolina and Cocke County, 
Tenn., that wanted to come to the Union army, and if he would 
give me recruiting papers I would attempt to cross the Cum- 
berland Mountain into East Tennessee, and make up a company 
and bring them back with me. He was very anxious for me 
to try it, but said it was a very dangerous undertaking, for the 
rebel soldiers were guarding every road and path that had been 
traveled by the Union men. I concluded, however, to make 
the venture. 



TO THE FEDERAL UNES. 23 

With my brother Alexander Ragan, Iranious Isenhour, 
James Kinser and James Ward, I started for East Tennessee. 
We crossed Cumberland Mountain, and it commenced raining, 
and when in the night we came to Powell's River it was over- 
flowing its banks. We had crossed at this place on our jour- 
ney to Kentucky. The canoe was on the opposite side, and the 
night was so dark that we could not see across the stream. We 
knew that if we remained there until daylight we certainly 
would be captured and hung or shot. My brother and Eisen- 
hour were good swimmers. They stripped off their clothes, and 
I never expected to see either of them again. I remember that 
my brother, while we were talking about who should swim over 
to get the canoe, said to me, 

" I am not married, and if I get drowned it will not be so 
bad ; if you were to get drowned, Emeline would be left alone." 

I have since thought thousands of times how noble it was 
in him to have such fraternal feeling for myself and my wife 
under circumstances of so trying a nature. 

They both plunged in at the same time. The timber was 
running and slashing the banks on the other side. I held my 
breath, waiting to hear the result. In a few minutes I heard 
my brother say, " Here it is, Iranius." So they brought the 
canoe over, and one by one we crossed to the other side. It 
was a frail little thing, and we thought every minute we would 
be drowned. We crawled up the steep bank to an old field, 
and as by this time it was daylight, we had to get into the 
woods and hide for the day. We had filled our haversacks with 
provisions when we left Camp Dick Robinson, but they were all 
wet and mixed up ; yet we ate them all the same. 



24 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

James Ward could not see a wink in the night. We did 
not know it until we had passed Cumberland Mountain. Of 
course we had to take care of him. He was like a moon-eyed 
horse ; he was all right in the daytime, but we had to travel in 
the night, and we had to lead him half the time. 

After a good many hardships, we reached Cocke County, 
Tenn. I do not think we met any one but an old man named 
Walker, whom I will mention later on. He gave us something 
to eat — in fact all he had, for the rebel soldiers had robbed him 
and left him destitute. 

I went to my home in the night and made myself known, 
but did not sleep in the house. 

While I was away, the rebels came to my father-in-law's 
house and took him out to an old blacksmith shop and told him 
if he did not give up his money they would hang him. He 
would not tell them where the money was, and they put the 
rope around his neck and threw it over the joist of the black- 
smith shop, and pulled him up by the neck. His daughter came 
and agreed to tell them where the money was, and they let 
the old man down, but he was so near dead that he could not 
stand. They took the money, some gold and some silver, and 
passed on. My father-in-law was Benjamin F. Neass, an un- 
conditional Union man. These things I relate to show how 
Union men and families were treated. 

In the meantime I sent for my father at Newport, whom I 
had not seen for a year, and told the messenger not to let him 
know who wanted to see him, but to meet me in a piece of 
woodland in a certain place on my father-in-law's farm. The 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES 



25 



next night he came. I asked him to send word to North Caro- 
Una, and every place where he could find out that there v/ere 
Union men who wanted to go to Kentucky, but not to let a man 
know who was the " pilot." He was Deputy Sheriff of the 
county, and v/as exempt from going into the rebel army at that 
time, but later on he had to leave the country. 

In a fev/ days word reached North Carolina and Greene 
and Cocke Counties, Tenn., that a " pilot" would be on hand at 
a place in the woods on my father-in-law's farm at a certain 
date. On the appointed day, one, two and three at a time, 
they made their appearance. I did not make myself known, 
but had a man ready to m.eet them and keep them quiet, for 
the rebels v/ere all through the country. I knew if they cap- 
tured me it would be certain death, for they killed every " pilot" 
they could lay their hands on. 

The Union women had been notified when we were to meet, 
and they had made haversacks and filled them with provisions 
for their husbands. The mothers and sisters had done the same 
thing for their sons and brothers who v/ere single. 

When the time came at nine o'clock for us to start, I came 
out and made m^yself known. There were about a hundred 
men present, and I had been acquainted with nearly all of them. 
They were surprised and glad to see me, and I swore in all who 
v/anted to enlist. !t was a sad sight. The wives bid their hus- 
bands good-bye, net knowing whether they would ever see them 
again or not, and some of them never did ; but they were loyal 
women and were ready at all times to sacrifice all for their 
country. 



26 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

Women in North Carolina and some parts of East Tennes- 
see suffered themselves to be whipped, and everything taken 
from them, and yet they would not tell where their husbands 
were. I have known them to cut up the last blanket in the 
house, to make clothes for their husbands, who were lying out, 
waiting for a chance to reach the Federal army. The night I 
left, my wife had cut up a blanket and made for me a shirt 
and a pair of drawers. All these things go to show what the 
Union men and women of East Tennessee did to help save 
this Government when it was in danger of destruction. 

We then started on the perilous undertaking, which was 
more dangerous at that time than upon the previous trip to 
Kentucky, for men all over East Tennessee had to leave, and 
the roads and river were guarded. Nearly all the men had old 
rifles or shotguns that they had rubbed up until they looked 
like army rifles. We reached the Nola Chucky, about twelve 
miles from our starting point, about midnight in a violent thun- 
der storm, in the darkest night I had ever witnessed. As the 
lightning flashed we could see it run along the barrels of the 
guns. The river was very high, and there seemed to be a gen- 
eral war of the elements. 

Each man had been instructed before we started to not 
speak above his breath, and if possible not to break a stick un- 
der foot. We halted in the lane in front of the house occupied 
by the man who kept the ferry, who was a Union man. His 
name was Reuben Easterly, six feet and two inches in height. 
I went to the door and knocked ; he was slow to get up, but in 
a few moments came and opened the door. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 27 

I said in a low tone of voice, " One hundred and twenty 
Union men want to cross the river." 

He hesitated and said, " The river is up, and I am afraid 
you can't cross." 

I said to him, " We have to cross, dead or alive. If we re- 
main on this side until daylight, we will be captured and sent 
to Tuscaloosa." 

He finally agreed to try, as he was always ready to help 
Union men. He came out and about half of the men got into 
the flat-bottomed boat and ran up the river a hundred yards 
to get a start so as to reach the landing on the other side. We 
waited some time, and heard the old boat strike dirt on the safe 
side. In about half an hour the boat returned to our side, and 
the balance of us got in and were soon safely landed with the 
others. We asked old Reuben what he charged. 

"Nothing," said he, "and I wish you a safe journey to the 
promised land." 

Those kind words served to cheer us very much on our way. 

After crossing the river we started for the Chucky Knobs, 
where we were to meet several Union men. When we reached 
the place, in a deep hollow, with no house within a mile, we 
found fifteen men waiting for us, including Judge Randolph, of 
Cocke County. A number of Union women had learned that 
we were to meet at this place, and that their husbands were 
going away, and they had prepared rations and haversacks to 
supply them on their dangerous journey. They bid them good- 
bye, and two of them never saw their husbands again. 

We remained there all that day, and that night at eight 



28 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

o'clock we started for good, with about one hundred and thirty 
men. All seemed to be in good spirits and glad that they were 
on their way to the " promised land," as Reuben Easterly said 
when we crossed the Nola Chucky. We travelled about fifteen 
miles that night, and next day laid in the woods on the banks 
of the Watauga River. 

When night came we crossed the river — some swimming 
and some crossing in an old canoe — and continued our journey. 
At daylight we came to the Holston River, at a point where no 
Union men had previously crossed on their way to Kentucky. 
I sent three men up the river to find a canoe, for some of the 
men could not swim and it was too deep to wade. They found 
an old canoe, and while some swam and others crossed in the 
canoe, it was nearly midnight when we all got across. 

As the men reached the opposite side, they would lie down 
and go to sleep while the others were crossing. It was a level 
place on the opposite side, and stick weeds had grown up about 
five feet high. When the men had all crossed, they woke up 
those that were asleep, and we got in line and started. After 
travelling about half a mile, we heard some one howhng at the 
top of his voice. I sent two of the boys back in haste to find 
out what was the matter. They found that Jimmie Jones was 
left asleep on the bank of the river, the boys having failed to 
awaken him. He said that he dreamed that the rebels were 
after him and he woke up and found we had gone, and the old 
man commenced howling like a lost dog. We were very un- 
easy about it, for fear the rebels had heard him, but evidently 
they had not and no unpleasant consequences resulted. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 29 

Next came Bays and Clinch Mountains, steep and rugged, 
over which we had to pass ; and then came Clinch River, an- 
other dangerous place to cross, for the rebels were watching the 
paths and the rivers to prevent Union men from leaving the 
country and reaching the Federal lines. 

We crossed Powell's Mountain, tall, rough and rugged ; 
then came Waldon Ridge and the Wild Cat Mountain. The 
nights were so dark we could not see ten feet ahead of us. As 
we passed through these dark, narrow paths, we marched in 
single file, myself leading ; the next one would take hold of my 
coat tail, and so on down the line. No man was allowed to 
speak above his breath. Sometimes men would fall and suffer 
themselves to be dragged for yards, but never spoke nor mur- 
mured a word. 

We had some rations on hand that our wives had prepared 
for us, but they were getting scarce, from the fact that we had 
to keep away from houses and public roads. It was certainly 
strange that one hundred and thirty men could travel through 
a country two hundred miles, thickly settled in some places, 
and never be seen. 

We continued on our march, the night being very dark 
and the country very rough. The men had become tired and 
worn out. Some were nearly barefooted, for their shoes were 
poor before they left home. 

The next morning we came in sight of Powell's River, and 
remained in a thick piece of woods for the day. We were in a 
dangerous part of the country — we were nearing Powell's Val- 
ley, the most dangerous place in all our travels. When night 



30 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

came we were a little refreshed, but were out of rations, and 
had been living on quarter rations all the way. We crossed 
Powell's River that night, and started for the great task. We 
had to cross the " Dead Line" and Powell's Valley the next night. 

It was so dark we could not see ten steps ahead of us, and 
we lost our trail. When daylight came we found ourselves 
about two miles East of the regular trail. We halted in a deep 
hollow and had a consultation. I knew that I was " in for it," 
if I failed to get them out. I was sure we were East of the 
home of old man Walker, the man who gave us something to 
eat on our way to Tennessee on our previous trip, and I thought 
I could find his house. I started West, and travelled two miles 
through the woods, in a rough country, with no houses near. 
It so happened that I came out of the woods at the rear of his 
house. I lay down in a patch of chinkapin bushes for some 
time, as I was not certain that I was at the right place, the 
house being a very ordinary log building. 

I crawled to a low rail fence, and knocked on a rail of the 
fence with a small stone. In a moment Walker came out of 
the house, looking like a wild man, and seemed to know what 
was up. He went back and in a few minutes a company of 
rebel cavalry passed along the road. I waited until they got 
out of the way and then knocked again and he came out the 
second time. 

He came slowly to where I lay, and said, " What's the mat- 
ter ? " He recognized me, for it had been but a short time since 
we had a talk with him on our way from Kentucky to Tennes- 
see. I told him that about one hundred and thirty men had got 
off the trail and had wandered about two miles East. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 31 

He said, " Don't say a word ; there have been several such 
cases." He told me to go back in the thicket and not make 
■ any noise, for the rebels were travelhng up and down the road ; 
and he would bring the men out in a short time. In about two 
hours Walker returned, with the men trailing after him. I 
never saw men so happy, for they knew if they had remained 
there they would be captured and sent to Tuscaloosa. 

We v/ere all nearly starved, having eaten up all we had 
the day before. I asked Walker if he could get us something 
to eat. He said he did not have anything but Irish potatoes, 
and they were in the ground, and some apples that were on the 
trees, and nothing to make bread of. The rebels had taken 
nearly everything he had. He went to work and dug the pota- 
toes and gathered the apples, and cooked them in some old tin 
buckets, the only things available. He cooked about two bush- 
els each of the apples and potatoes. 

It was about nine o'clock in the morning when he brought 
the men to his place, and at noon the " dinner" was ready. I 
got the men in line, and Walker passed the buckets along. As 
the men had no knives, forks or spoons, they had to use their 
hands, and some of them were so hungry that they burned 
their fingers in their eagerness to partake of the delicious and 
inviting repast. Our generous host continued to supply them 
until all was consumed. 

The men were so famished that while he was cooking the 
apples and potatoes they peeled the bark off all the little trees 
and ate it. The whole thicket, about an acre, looked white after 
the trees had been thus denuded of theu bark. 



32 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

By this time it was two o'clock in the afternoon, and I told 
the men to lie down and try to sleep, for we had to cross the 
" Dead Line" and Powell's Valley that night, and get into Cum- 
berland Mountain, for I knew the rebels were on our trail. 

While we were lying on the ground about three hundred 
yards from the main road, we could hear the rebels riding up 
and down the road. No man was allowed to make any noise. 
They obtained a few hours of sleep and rest, which was very 
much needed. I had two men detailed to keep them from 
snoring, for some of them you could hear a hundred yards. 
These men would go around and when a man would snore they 
would shake him or give him a kick. 

When night came, the perilous task of crossing the " Dead 
Line," which we had dreaded from the start, was before us. 
Several men had been killed at this place during the preceding 
ten days. I asked Walker if he knew a good Union man who 
could be relied upon to guide us to the road. He said there 
was a man in the neighborhood who had helped men to Pow- 
ell's Valley, and he would send a colored girl to see if the man 
could be found. By the time we were ready to start, about 
nine o'clock, he came. I questioned him and he seemed to be 
all right, so we started, he in the lead. I had been on the trail 
before, and after travelling about a mile I became a little sus- 
picious and stopped the men. I thought we were too far West. 
I formed a hollow square, with this man in the center. I ques- 
tioned him and found we were a mile off the trail. We put 
the man under arrest, and went back to where we had started 
and took up the right trail. I do not think this man intended 
to lead us into the rebels' hands, but he became bewildered and 
scared. 




0) 
•00 

Q. 



^ 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 33 

We reached Powell's Valley about three o'clock in the 
morning, and halted on a little bank about ten feet above the 
level of the main road leading up and down the valley, whcih 
was called the " Dead Line." I remember this experience as 
vividly as if it were but yesterday. The woods in which v/e 
were concealed were as dark as hell, and hell was in front of 
us. There were about one hundred and thirty men standing 
in single file, and I could not hear a man move or breathe. 
Even death itself could never be more still. 

The valley we had to cross was about four hundred yards 
wide, and not a tree or bush in the valley. The road in front 
of us was dusty, and while we stood there we heard in the dis- 
tance the rattle of sabers and the galloping of rebel cavalry. 
We stood motionless as they passed by, and the dust from the 
horses' hoofs came up in the bushes and settled on our should- 
ers. What a time it was for us ! It seemed that we were to 
cross the " Valley and shadow of death." 

When the rebel cavalry had passed, I cut off twenty-five 
men and said, " Now, boys, go ! " and they did go. They 
crossed that valley like wild cattle. When I thought they 
were safely over, I cut off twenty-five more men, and they also 
landed safely. I waited awhile, and we could hear the rebel 
cavalry coming back. They passed down again, so we waited 
about ten minutes and then I said, " Boys, now follow me ! " 
and we all crossed in safety and were at the foot of Cumber- 
land Mountain, which was rough, steep, rocky and pathless. 
Every man had to pick his way until we nearly reached the top. 

As we crossed the valley, the air was filled with the stench 



34 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

of the decaying bodies of the men who had been killed a few 
days before. No one could venture to remove or bury them. 
I understood afterward that they attempted to cross in the 
daytime, and were killed. 

When we reached the top of Cumberland Mountain we 
came to what was called Bailes' Meadow, a name and place 
familiar to nearly every " pilot" and man who crossed the 
mountain. The boys were worn out, mostly all bare-footed 
and nearly naked from crawling through bushes and briar 
thickets. 

Some of them, when we reached the top of the mountain, 
looked back into the valley of East Tennessee and said, " Fare- 
well to rebellion ;" and they looked North and said, " I can see 
the Promised Land ! " They were happy, but they had been so 
long hiding in the woods that they would only speak in whis- 
pers, and it was a long time before they could break themselves 
from the habit. You could trail them by the blood from their 
feet, but like brave men they marched along without a murmur. 

James H. Randolph, of Newport, Tennessee, was with us. 
I was sorry for him as well as the others. His shoes were en- 
tirely worn out, and his feet were bleeding. I can remember 
the circumstances as distinctly as though it were but a few days 
ago. He looked at me and said, " Bob, when we get back to 
Tennessee we will give them H — , and rub it in ! " He was 
mad, worn out, and nearly starved to death ; but we were out 
of danger and began to realize that we were free once more. 

We went down to the settlements in Kentucky, but could 
not see a man. It seemed that they had all gone to the Union 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. • 35 

or the rebel army ; but the farms appeared to be in good con- 
dition and well stocked, and the fields were full of corn. We 
came to a large farm at the foot of the mountain, with a large 
frame house, painted white, but could not see any one. There 
was quite a field of corn, just in roasting ears. We halted, and 
I told the boys we must have something to eat, for we were 
nearly starved. We had had nothing to eat since we ate the 
apples and potatoes at old man Walker's. 

I told four or five of the boys to go to the corn field and 
bring as many roasting ears as they could carry, and some five 
or six others to go out in the pasture where there was a nice 
flock of sheep and bring in a couple of fat bucks, and we would 
cook the mutton with the roasting ears. In the meantime oth- 
ers went to the house and got a wash kettle in which to cook 
the mutton and corn, and some salt for seasoning. By the 
time they returned the boys had arrived with the roasting ears. 
I looked out in the pasture and saw five boys, each pulling a 
sheep along. They were so hungry that they thought they could 
eat a sheep apiece ; but we only killed two, and they were fine. 
We had men in the company who could equal any butcher in 
dressing a sheep. We filled the kettle with corn and mutton, 
and had a fine barbecue. We had no soap, and when the boys 
got through, their mouths, faces and hands were as greasy as a 
fat stand. I sent one of the boys to the house to tell the lady 
how much we had taken, and ask what she charged. 

She said, " Nothing." Some of the boys had a little gold 
and silver with them and wanted to pay her. 



36 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

We reached Camp Dick Robinson in a few days, and re- 
mained there some time. Col. Reeve had his regiment nearly 
made up. We organized our company as Company K, which 
about completed the regiment. The company was mustered 
into the service, when the boys drew their uniforms and their 
new Enfield rifles. After they had shaved, cleaned up and put 
on their new uniforms, I met them several times and did not 
know them. They were the happiest men I ever saw. 



TO THE FEDERAL UNES. 37 



CHAPTER VI. 

rr^HE army was getting ready to start on the march for East 
-*- Tennessee. I had bought my officer's uniform, with my 
straps on my shoulders and a sword hanging by my side. I do 
not think that General Grant or General Sherman ever felt as 
big as I did. Of course we had been lying in the mountains 
of East Tennessee for nearly two years, and had been chased 
by rebels and in danger of our lives every minute of our time, 
and had to leave our families to be treated like thieves — why 
not feel good as we were going back to relieve them ? I have 
known rebels to take women and whip them to make them 
tell where their husbands were. 

About the first of August we were ordered to be ready to 
march at a minute's notice, and in a few days the orders came 
for us to fall in hne. The band struck up the tune, " Going 
back to Dixie;" the men cheered, and some shed tears of joy. 
The army concentrated at Danville, Ky., and General Burnside 
took command of the 23d Army Corps. We remained there a 
few days, and then took up our march in fact for East Tennes- 
see. We had a pretty hard time getting across the mountains, 
as the roads were very bad, and the horses and mules were 
not used to traveling ; a great many of them gave out, and a 
large number died. 

We reached East Tennessee, below Knoxville, about the 
last of August, 1863, and marched in the direction of that city, 



38 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

passing between it and Bean Station. We skirmished with the 
rebels on our way, and then camped at Bull's Gap for a few days. 

While at Bull's Gap, I asked Col. Reeve for a detail of six 
men to go across the country about eighteen miles, to visit my 
home and find out if any rebels were lurking around in the 
neighborhood. When we got within a mile of Parrottsville, 
Cocke County, near where I lived, we sent a Union woman to 
the town, requesting her to see an old colored man by the name 
of Dave Rodman, who we knew had been living there all his 
life, and to tell him to come out to a piece of woodland just 
above the town. 

About ten o'clock in the night we heard the old man com- 
ing in our direction. We met him and he informed us that 
Henry Kilgore (the man who conscripted me), Tillman Faubion 
and Cass Turner were in the town ; that Kilgore was at his 
home, and the other two men were across the street at Fau- 
bion's house. We went into the town, and George Freshour, 
who was a Sergeant in my company, and one other man and 
myself surrounded the Kilgore house, while the other three 
men went across the street to the Faubion house and captured 
Faubion and Cass Turner. Their horses were hitched to the 
fence, ready to mount and make their way to North Carolina. 
It was raining, and the night was very dark. 

Freshour went to the front door and knocked ; some one 
came to the door, and he asked if Kilgore was at home. They 
said that he had gone. As I was at the back kitchen door and 
the other man at the south door, we knew he had not passed 
out. Freshour insisted that Kilgore was in the house, and de- 



TO THE FEDERAL UNES, 39 

manded that the door be opened. Finally they let him in. 

There was no light in the house. Fresh our searched un- 
der the beds and every place that he thought a man could hide 
in, but failed to find his man. He then went into the kitchen 
and found Kilgore crouched behind some old barrels. We 
brought him out and took him across the street where the other 
two prisoners were. We then started down Clear Creek, which 
ran through the Knobs, and we had to cross it ten or fifteen 
times on foot logs that were narrow, smooth and slippery. 

At the beginning of the Rebelhon this man Henry Kilgore 
was a conscript officer, and gave Leadbeater's Command, which 
was stationed at Parrottsville for the purpose of hunting Union 
men, all the information he could obtain as to where the Union 
men kept their corn, wheat, bacon and bee gum. He was a 
terror to the country. 

Tillman Faubion was a nice man, and I never heard of him 
giving any information, but he was a strong rebel sympathizer. 

Cass Turner lived between Sevierville and Newport, Cocke 
County, Tenn. He was a conscript officer, and one of the worst 
men in that section. While hunting Union men who were ly- 
ing out in the hills, trying to get to Kentucky, he found that 
two or three men were hid in a cave in his neighborhood. He 
and two others went to the cave and found the men, and it was 
said he shot them and left their bodies in the cave. 

I remember when we started with these three men, Sergt. 
Freshour walked behind Kilgore, and he insisted upon my giv- 
ing him permission to kill Kilgore, but I would not let him do 
any harm to any of the men. 



40 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

Cass Turner was a short man, weighing about two hun- 
dred pounds. He could not walk the foot-logs, and had to get 
down and slide across on his stomach. He and Kilgore pleaded 
with the boys to let them ride, but they refused. 

About ten miles below where we captured these men we 
came to the home of a Mrs. Bible, whose husband had been cap- 
tured by the rebels, taken to Tuscaloosa and died. Freshour 
asked her if she had any honey, and she replied that there was 
a bee hive in the barn that the rebels had not found. Fresh- 
our went to the bee hive, took out a pound of soft honey, put 
it in Kilgore's tall white " plug" hat, and made him wear it. 
The honey ran down his face, eyes and ears. The cause of the 
Sergeant's httle act of " pleasantry" was the fact that Kilgore 
had sent the rebels to Freshour's father's house, and they took 
all of his bee hives, wheat, corn and bacon — in fact all he had. 
The rebel now had an opportunity to taste the " sweets of ad- 
versity." 

We took these men to Knoxville and turned them over to 
the authorities, and then returned to our command, at Bull's 
Gap. 



TO THE FEDERAL UNES. 41 



CHAPTER VII. 

PREPARATIONS were being made at Missionary Ridge for 
battle, and the rebels were concentrating all their forces 
at that point. Burnside's Corps returned to Knoxville and was 
besieged. After Grant defeated the rebel forces at Missionary 
Ridge, Longstreet's army came up to Knoxville and attacked 
the Federal forces on the west end, but were repulsed with 
great loss. Longstreet's defeated and demoralized forces took 
up their march to East Tennessee, making their way to Virginia. 
Burnside's Corps followed them as far as Jonesboro, and then 
returned by way of Knoxville. 

Grant and Sherman were getting their forces together, and 
making preparations for the great march to Atlanta. Burnside 
arrived at Red Clay and marched out to what is called Buz- 
zard's Roost and attacked the enemy, but they were too strongly 
fortified. We fell back, and Sherman commenced for the first 
time with his " flanking machine," as the rebels called it. We 
marched around through Snake Creek Gap and formed in line 
of battle about a half mile from the rebel breastworks, our 
Division being in front. We marched down through a piece of 
woodland and up a hill about two hundred yards from the rebel 
works. The grape and cannister would cut through our ranks, 
and we would close up the gaps. It was said that there were 
about five hundred pieces of artillery playing at the same time. 
It seemed that the earth was tottering to the center. 



42 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

We were ordered to lie down within about one hundred 
yards of the rebel breastworks. A line of battle passed over 
us, a Colonel being mounted. His horse was shot from under 
him, but he never halted. The horse fell and rolled down the 
hill, about ten Steps from our line. 

General Sherman, knowing our condition and that we were 
losing hundreds of men, moved around on our extreme right 
and, getting the range of the rebel breastworks, turned loose 
his artillery and plowed the rebels out of the works. They re- 
treated, and the day was ours. 

When the battle was going on the cannon balls cut off the 
tops of the trees, and they fell in our ranks and killed many of 
our men. After the smoke of the battle had cleared away, I 
could see the rebel sharpshooters hanging in the trees. They 
had tied themselves to keep from falling if wounded, but some 
were dead. It was reported that the rebels obtained from some 
foreign country the long-range guns then used by the Southern 
sharpshooters, which seemed to be superior to the rifles in pos- 
session of our forces. 

This little account is not intended to give the history of the 
War or the exciting campaign through Georgia, but only to give 
an insight into my personal experiences. 

I will here relate one Uttle occurrence at Carters ville, Ga., 
after we had driven the rebels across the Etowah River. I was 
detailed with about fifty men to go around a mountain and 
down to a large flour mill on the river, if we could, and burn it 
up with all its contents. We arrived on the side of a moun- 
tain just above the mill and halted. On the opposite side of 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 43 

the river was a high bluff, from which we were fired upon by 
the rebels, but we sheltered ourselves behind trees. 

I took eight or ten men and went back a few hundred 
yards to a httle stream that flowed into a mill race leading to 
the mill. The race was quite large, and as the water overflowed 
on both sides it formed a screened pathway. We reached the 
mill, unseen by the rebels, and went from the basement to the 
upper floor, where we found four men sacking flour and corn 
meal and loading it in wagons in front of the mill. We arrested 
them and ordered them to help us carry the flour and meal 
back into the mill. We then unhitched the horses from the 
wagons, took off the wheels and rolled them into the mill, and 
then set the building on fire. When it was in full blast, we re- 
leased the men and went back the same way we came. Find- 
ing that our men had silenced the rebels on the other side, we 
took up our march back to our command and made our report. 

We crossed the Etowah River the next day, and found the 
rebels had formed a line of battle and built breastworks. We 
drove the rebel picket line in, and fortified within about five 
hundred yards from the enemy's fortifications, which were on 
a ridge in a piece of woodland. Our picket line was deployed 
on the edge of an old field, about two hundred yards from the 
rebel breastworks. There were two small log cabins between 
the lines, about thirty feet apart, from which any of our men 
who exposed themselves were shot. I saw several men killed 
while trying to pass between these cabins. Being in charge of 
the brigade picket line, I received an order to charge the rebel 



44 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

pickets and drive them into their works. I knew it was death 
to every man, for I had been there all day and understood the 
situation. I refused to make the charge, and one of Burnside's 
Staff — I think it was Major Tracy — rode up and said to me, 
" Why did you disobey orders ? " I told him if he remained 
where he was he would be shot. Just then a ball struck him 
in the breast, and he fell from his horse and was carried off the 
field. I received no more orders, and remained in charge of 
the picket Une. 

That night about twelve o'clock I heard a cow bell tinkling 
in front of us, sounding as if cattle were eating leaves off the 
bushes. I called the attention of Sergeant George Freshour to 
it. He belonged to my company, and was as brave a boy as 
ever lived. He said, " Captain, that is rebels, trying to make us 
think it is cattle." 

He handed me his gun, and said he would crawl down in 
the bushes and see what it meant. He was gone about ten 
minutes, when I heard him crawling out of the bushes, nearly 
out of breath, and in a low whisper he said, " Captain, the 
woods are full of rebels and they are advancing ! " 

I immediately passed the word along the line to get ready 
for a charge. In a few minutes I gave the order, " Charge !" 
and we did charge ! We drove the rebel line back into their 
works, and returned to our former line. It was as dark as it 
could be, and they evidently thought the whole Federal army 
was after them 

The next morning at daylight I was relieved, and we were 
congratulated for our action. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 45 

About four o'clock that evening the whole rebel line charged 
our works. The battle lasted about two hours, but we repulsed 
them and they fell back, leaving about three hundred dead and 
wounded on the field. 

Sherman was moving on the extreme right, as usual, turn- 
ing the rebels' left flank, and they had to leave their works and 
retreat. We continued in pursuit of the enemy, skirmishing 
continuously, and when we reached the front of Atlanta we 
were on the extreme left near the breastworks, guarding the 
wagon train. 

About two o'clock on the afternoon of July 22, 1864, the 
rebels attacked our left and drove our wagon train pell mell, 
forcing our left wing back. General James B. McPherson came 
up with his Staff, rode out through a piece of woodland in front 
of us, and ran into the rebel cavalry and was killed. I was 
within thirty yards of him at the time. 

In about a half-hour General John A. Logan came up and 
took command. The evening after General McPherson was 
killed the rebels charged on our left, and it was said to be the 
hardest battle that was fought while we were at Atlanta. 

Next morning we were ordered around to the extreme right 
of Atlanta, to tear up the railroad between Atlanta and Jones- 
boro. Our regiment was the first to reach the railroad. We 
took the rails off the cross ties and bent them, piled the cross 
ties on top of the rails and set them on fire. Two trains came 
up from the South, making their way to Atlanta, but discov- 
ered that the railroad was torn up, and backed out and disap- 
peared. 



46 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

On the sixth day of August we were about the center of 
the army, and were ordered to advance on the rebel works. 
There was an old field between our forces and the rebels. They 
had fortified on a ridge as usual, in the woods about three hun- 
dred yards from this old field, and they had cut down all the 
small timber in front of their works, the tops falling in our di- 
rection. They had sharpened the ends of the timber, forming 
an abbatis, of which we were not aware until we had reached 
within about twenty yards of their works. Some of our men 
succeeded in getting through these sharp limbs and up to their 
works, although they were killing our men by the dozen. Our 
color-bearer, a boy by the name of John Fancher, placed the 
flag on the rebel works, and they got hold of it and pulled him 
in. He was never heard of again until after the war, when the 
rebel records showed that he died in prison. 

We had to fall back, leaving our dead and wounded on the 
ground. We lost ninety-three men wounded and killed out of 
our regiment. The officers who were killed were Capt. Bowers, 
Lieut Johnson and Lieut. Fitzgerald. Lieut. Bible and Lieut. 
Walker were wounded. 

There were five killed and wounded in my company. One 
of them, George Ricker, was killed in the fight and laid close 
to the edge of the old field. His mess-mate, William Smith, 
saw him lying dead as we fell back. After the battle was over, 
though the sharpshooters were still firing. Smith asked me to 
let him go back and get the body, and help bring it off the 
field. I said to him it was dangerous for him to go, but he in- 
sisted and I finally consented. He went to where Ricker was. 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 47 

and just as he stooped down to raise him up a ball struck him 
in the side, and he fell dead on the body of his comrade. They 
were warm friends in Ufe, and in death were not separated. 
Afterward the dead were buried, and the wounded cared for. 

On the night of September 1, 1864, the rebels set fire to 
the arsenal and all the military implements in Atlanta, and it 
seemed the whole earth trembled with the explosions. The 
rebels evacuated the city, moving out southeast, and on the 
morning of September 2d our forces took possession, thus gaining 
the victory after a siege lasting over a month. 

Next morning we followed the rebels to Jonesboro and had 
a hard battle, defeating them. After the battle was over we 
remained there for a few days, and then returned to Atlanta. 
The rebel regiment that I was urged to make up in my 
county, heretofore mentioned, was captured in the Jonesboro 
fight, losing quite heavily in killed and wounded. Some of the 
men learned that my regiment was in the battle, and heard 
that I was there, and they sent for me. I found that fifteen or 
twenty of the boys with whom I had gone to school were pris- 
oners, and several had been killed. Some of these were boys 
I had played with when we were children. I make this state- 
ment to show that fathers and brothers and neighbors and 
friends had fought against each other. This regiment that I 
speak of was paroled and went back to East Tennessee, and 
never returned to the rebel army. 

After the war we were all good friends and good citizens. 
These boys went into the rebel army at the beginning of the 
war in 1861, and did not stay around home to rob and kill 
Union men, and hang them for their money. 



48 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 



CHAPTER VIII. 

T N this closing chapter I desire to give some incidents, etc., 
-^ pathetic, humorous and otherwise, associated with but not 
included in this somewhat disconnected and rambling account 
of my varied experiences. 

The noble and patriotic women in East Tennessee, whose 
untold sufferings would fill a volume, most of whom have now 
passed beyond that bourne from whence no traveler ever re- 
turns, should have their names and deeds so far as possible 
recorded so that generations yet to come may honor them and 
reverence their memory. 

No night was too dark, no danger too imminent, no task 
too arduous for these self-sacrificing women to perform when 
the opportunity was presented to them to lend a helping hand 
to the hunted, starving Union men. 

What brave, loving mothers, wives and sisters of East Ten- 
nessee, who faced the tempests of hatred and persecution dur- 
ing the Civil War ; whose willing hands were always ready to 
minister to the suffering and distressed ; who carried food to 
the hunted and perishing Union men who wore the homespun 
clothes wrought by their own hands; who through waiting 



TO THE FEDERAL LINES. 49 

years never faltered in love and faith and duty to friend or to 
country ! 

The deeds of the loyal men of East Tennessee, could they 
have been told individually in all their thrilling details and 
sufferings while they were Uving, would rival in patriotic inter- 
est the stories of Robert Bruce, William Wallace, or the brave 
Leonidas, who with his three hundred Spartans held the pass 
at Thermopylae against the hosts of Persian aggressors. 

I recall another little incident that occurred in my travels 
from my home to my father's, near Newport, Tenn. About 
midway on the route that I travelled, on the main road leading 
to Paint Rock, N. C, there Uved a man by the name of John 
Hawk, who had two or three large bull dogs. I had travelled 
several times over this route, passing within two hundred yards 
of his house, and had never been molested by these dogs, for I 
was careful about making any noise. On one occasion I got too 
near the house, and happened to step on a stick in my path, 
which snapped loudly and the dogs heard it and started for me, 
yelping as they ran. I was fast on foot at that time, but the 
dogs seemed to be gaining on me. I looked for a tree to climb, 
but they were all too large. I knew the time was coming for 
me to make a fight for my life, for they were getting danger- 
ously near. I picked up two knotty rocks as I ran, and soon 
reached a high cross fence that had been built in the woods. 
Beside the fence stood a small hickory tree, and I climbed up 
about ten feet just as the dogs reached the place. It was so 
dark I could hardly see them. They reared up and commenced 
barking as if they had treed a coon or a possum. I drew back 



50 ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 

with one of the stones and struck one of the dogs squarely in 
the mouth, and I heard his teeth shatter. He raised a howl 
and ran away, with the other dog after him. After that time 
I kept that house at a greater distance. That night I made my 
way home, or in other words, to the mountains close by. 

Old Uncle David's Prayer. — This prayer was delivered by 
an old colored man before we crossed the Holston River. We 
found him living in a little log cabin on a farm. He was an 
old-fashioned preacher, and of course a Union man. 

" Lord God A'mighty ! We is yo' chil'n an' 'spects you 
to hea' us widout delay, cause we all is in right smart ob a 
hurry ! Dese yer gemmen has run'd away from de Seceshers 
and dere 'omes, and wants to get to de Norf. Dey hasn't got 
any time for to wait ! Ef it is 'cording to de destination ob 
great Hebben to help 'em, it '11 be 'bout necessary fo' de help 
to come right soon ! De hounds an' de rebels is on dere track ! 
Take de smell out ob de dogs' noses, Lord ! and let Gypshun 
darkness come ober de eysights ob de rebels. Confound 'em, 
Lord ! Dey is cruel, and makes haste to shed blood. Dey 
has long 'pressed de black man an' groun' him in de dust, an' 
now I reck'n dey 'spects dat dey am a gwin' to serve de loyal 
men de same way. Help dese gemmen in time ob trouble, an' 
left 'em fru all danger on to de udder side ob Jo'dan dry shod ! 
An' raise de radiance ob yo' face on all de loyal men what's 
shut up in de Souf ! Send some Moses, Lord ! to guide 'em 
fru de Red Sea ob Flickshun into de promis' land ! Send some 
great Gen'ral ob de Norf wid his comp'ny sweepin' down fru 
dese yer parts to scare de rebels till dey flee like de Midians, 



TO THE FEDEEiAL UNES. 51 

an' slew dereselves to sabe dere lives ! Lord ! bless de Gen'- 
rals ob de Norf ! Lord ! bless de Runnels ! Lord ! bless 
de Capt'ins ! Lord ! bless der loyal men makin' dere way to 
de promis' land ! Lord, Eberlastin* ! Amen." 

This prayer, offered in a full and fervent voice, seemed to 
cover our case exactly, and we could join in the " amen." We 
then crossed the Holston River, but not dry shod. 

Some time in 1862 the loyal men of Cocke County, East 
Tennessee, refused to go into the rebel army. They lived in 
what was called the Knobs. There were about four hundred 
of these men, some farmers, some mechanics and some black- 
smiths, all loyal to the Government. 

Leadbeater with his command was sent to Parrottsville, in 
the same county, and went into camp for the purpose of look- 
ing after these men, who had built breastworks on a high hill 
in that locality. They sawed off gum tree logs about the length 
of a cannon, and bored out holes in these logs large enough to 
load with tin cans full of large bullets and pieces of iron. They 
made iron bands out of wagon tires, and put them around the 
log cannons to keep them from exploding when fired. It was 
said that they could fire these wooden guns with accuracy. 

The rebels heard of these preparations, and with a large 
force went into this Knob country and found the works, and 
captured about one hundred of these men and brought them 
to Parrottsville, where the army was in camp. They put them 
into a large one-story frame school-house, and placed a heavy 
guard around the prison, They kept them there for some time 
and treated them like brutes. 



52 



ESCAPE FROM EAST TENNESSEE 



A man by the name of Hamilton Yett, who was a strong 
rebel, came into the prison and said he wanted " to look at the 
animals ! " Such an expression from a man enraged the pris- 
oners, and one of them, named Peter Reece, picked up a piece 
of brick from an old fire-place and threw it at Yett, striking 
him on the head and fracturing his skull. In a few minutes 
the soldiers came in the prison and took Reece out and hung 
him to a tree close to the prison, where he hung for three days. 
His wife and other women came and took the body down and 
hauled it away, no man being allowed to assist them. 

Some of the men who were in this prison were taken to 
Tuscaloosa, some made their escape, and some were killed while 
trying to escape. There was a man by the name of Philip 
Bewley, who was a Methodist preacher, a good man and as 
strong a Union man as there was in East Tennessee. While 
in this prison he would pray for the success of the North and 
for the men who were with him in prison. He lived until after 
the war. 

In this connection a little incident that occurred after the 
war may not be out of place in this small volume. 

There was in our regiment a man by the name of Walker, 
who had one of his eyes shot out in the campaign in Georgia. 
When the war was over he came home, studied for the ministry 
and became a noted preacher. 

In 1867 there was a big revival in the same town, Parrotts- 
ville, about three hundred yards from the old school-house in 
which Bewley and the other Union men were confined and 
where Reece was hung. While the revival was going on one 



TO THE FEDERAL UNES. 



53 



night at the church, Walker was praying the Lord to guide and 
direct the people in the way they ought to go, and that all 
might get to Heaven ; Bewley rose up and said, 

"Yes, thank the Lord, Brother Walker ; there will be no 
rebels up there to shoot our eyes out ! " 

I heard this myself, and was not surprised, for he was the 
wittiest man I ever heard. It raised no excitement, for it was 
just after the war and prejudice was running high at that time ; 
but, thank God, the war has been ended for forty-five years, 
and the North and the South have united, and we are now one 
people, one Nation, under one flag. 





FIFTY YEARS AFTER THE WAR. 



AUG 22 1910 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



fm 22 W»« 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



013 763 488 



